Follow
Chapters
Share
The Betrayed Princess's New Reign

The Betrayed Princess's New Reign

I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me. But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest. The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me. They didn't. Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her. They let me burn to keep her warm. When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages. That was the moment Elena Vitiello died. I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York. By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring. "You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them. "Burn for it."
Chapters
Share

Chapter 71

Dante Moretti POV: Months later. The entire top floor of the Outfit’s premier private hospital was locked down. Three hundred heavily armed soldiers secured every exit, elevator, and stairwell. No one entered or left without my direct authorization. Inside the sterile white hallway, I was losing my mind. I paced back and forth outside the heavy oak doors of the delivery room. My heavy leather shoes slapped against the polished tiles. Every time a muffled, agonizing scream pierced the thick wood, my heart slammed against my ribs like a sledgehammer. I reached up and violently ripped the silk tie from my neck, throwing it to the floor. I tore open the top three buttons of my tailored shirt, desperate for air. My chest heaved. I couldn't protect her from this. I couldn't shoot the pain away. A young nurse hurried down the hall, carrying a stainless steel basin of hot water. She tripped on the edge of the carpet and crashed hard into my shoulder. My reflexes took over. In half a second, I drew my gun from my holster and aimed it directly at her chest. My eyes were wild, feral. The nurse screamed, dropping the basin. Hot water splashed across my shoes. She collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. A pale hand shot out from the shadows and clamped down over the barrel of my gun. Mia stood there, her dark suit immaculate, her eyes cold and sharp. "Put it away, Boss," she whispered fiercely. "Do you want Elena to hear you losing control?" I gritted my teeth. My jaw locked so hard it ached. I shoved the gun back into the holster and kicked the sterile metal trash can against the wall. It shattered with a deafening crash. The delivery room doors swung open. Julian, the chief physician, walked out. His surgical scrubs were soaked in sweat. I lunged forward. I grabbed the front of his scrubs with both fists and lifted him entirely off the floor. "Why is she screaming?!" I roared in his face, my eyes bloodshot. "Stop the pain! Give her the drugs!" Julian choked, his hands gripping my wrists. "Dante, she refused the epidural! She refused all painkillers. She wants to be completely awake. She needs to feel in control." The words hit me like a physical blow. The trauma of her past—the times she had been drugged, helpless, at the mercy of her enemies—was still there. She trusted no one with her consciousness. I dropped Julian. His feet hit the floor hard. I drew my gun again and pressed the hot muzzle directly against his temple. "If she tears, if she bleeds too much, if her heart rate drops... I will skin every doctor in this building alive. Do you understand me?" Julian swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "I swear it on my life." He turned and rushed back into the room. Another thirty minutes dragged on. The screaming suddenly stopped. A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the hallway. My breath caught in my throat. My blood turned to ice. I couldn't move. Then, a sharp, furious wail shattered the quiet. A baby crying. My gun slipped from my fingers and hit the tile floor. I didn't even reach for the door handle. I lifted my leg and kicked the heavy oak doors wide open. The smell of blood and antiseptic hit me instantly. Elena lay back against the pillows, her face completely drained of color, her dark hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. A nurse was placing a tiny, squirming bundle wrapped in a blue blanket onto her chest. Elena looked down at the boy, tears spilling freely over her pale cheeks. I ignored the baby. I didn't care about the heir to the mafia empire. I sprinted to the side of the bed and crashed to my knees on the hard floor. I reached out with trembling hands and gently cupped her face. Tears, hot and uncontrollable, poured from my eyes, dripping onto the pristine white sheets. I leaned in and kissed her forehead, her nose, her pale lips. "Thank you," I choked out, my voice breaking. "Thank you, thank you." Elena smiled weakly. She lifted a tired hand and ran her fingers through my messy hair. "Look at him, Dante. Look at your son." I finally turned my head, looking at the red, wrinkled face of the boy. I reached out one large finger, and a tiny fist instantly clamped around it. I buried my face in the crook of Elena's neck, breathing in her scent. "I thought I was going to lose you, Elena. You are my life."

You may also like

Beauty In The Boy's Dorm
8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?" A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes. "Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?" I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me. "The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?" Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."
BLOOD AND PETALS
9.3
She sells flowers. He spills blood. And he will stop at nothing to make her his. Elena Rossi has always lived quietly among roses and lilies, dreaming of love as gentle as the petals she arranges. She thought she found it in Daniel, the man she planned to marry. Until her wedding day when a dangerous stranger walked into the church and shattered everything. Adrian Volkov is a king in the underworld, a man feared for his ruthlessness and power. But to him, Elena is not just a prize. She is an obsession. A storm he cannot live without. And he will burn the world and anyone in it, to claim her. Torn from the life she knew, Elena resists him, manipulates him, and even runs from him. But Adrian is relentless. His love is dark, his touch both punishing and tender, and his obsession inescapable. When betrayal and bloodshed close in, Elena must face the truth: She doesn't just fear him. She doesn't just hate him. She loves him. Petals and Blood is a haunting, passionate tale of obsession, betrayal, and the dangerous kind of love that blooms in shadows.
Claimed by My Ex's Stepbrother
8.0
"IS IT TRUE?" Grayson's voice thundered through the room. "Yes!" Tessa said softly. "Yes it is!" "So you've been cheating on me, haven't you?" He spat. Her hands trembled. "No, I swear, it's not like that." He grabbed her arm, his grip bruising her wrist as she squealed in pain. "Then whose baby are you carrying, huh?" His voice was ice cold. Tessa shivered, tears blurring her vision. "I don't know." ********** Pregnant with the powerful Roman Blackwood's child, while engaged to his unstable stepbrother - Tessa Quinn becomes the key to a ruthless inheritance war where love has no place. As secrets unravel and danger closes in, Tessa must protect her unborn child while trapped between love, vengeance, and men who want to own her fate.
Healing My Seven Broken Beast Mates
9.4
My retirement was finally approved, and I was supposed to be sipping drinks on a sunny beach. Instead, a cold system voice forced me into a nightmare scenario: "Cursed Mates Who Want Me Dead." I woke up in a stinking cave, trapped in the body of a psychopathic tribal princess. The memories that flooded my brain made me sick. The original owner of this body had forcibly marked seven of the continent's most powerful beast-men and reduced them to tortured pets. She had ripped the shimmering scales off Jordi the Merfolk prince, gouged out a proud wolf-man's power crystal, and snapped an eagle-man's magnificent wings. Now, Jordi was a mutilated, terrified mess hiding in a corner. He was so traumatized that he tried to slit his own throat just to escape me. His sister was actively trying to assassinate me. To make matters worse, the system warned me that if I didn't heal these seven ticking time bombs, my soul would be erased. Yet the future timeline clearly showed that these men would eventually unite, burn my tribe to the ground, and dismember me alive. I was paying for a monster's sins. Every time I tried to show mercy, they thought it was a sick new torture method. Words were useless, and my very presence was a trigger. But I am a Tier-S operative, and I don't play the victim. I forced the system to unlock my powers and strapped on my tactical gear. "Stay here and don't starve." I left the trembling Merfolk behind and walked into the deadly primitive forest, heading straight for the powerful Oasis Tribe to take back his stolen scales by force.
His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Designer
8.0
For six years, I played the perfect, submissive wife to Wall Street titan Francis Castro. I suffocated my own ambitions to fit into his conservative world. But while I waited alone at a Michelin restaurant, a news alert popped up. My husband had just dropped millions on an aquamarine diamond necklace for his "muse," Chanelle. The real nightmare began when I rushed home to find our five-year-old son in severe anaphylactic shock. I frantically called Francis from the ambulance, but he manually rejected my calls. He couldn't leave the bidding war for Chanelle's PR launch. When he finally arrived at the ER, Chanelle was right beside him, wearing that blinding multi-million-dollar necklace. He didn't ask about our dying son. "Why weren't you watching him?" he demanded, his voice hard and accusing. And when my son woke up, hazy from the drugs, he rejected my touch and reached for Chanelle instead. Francis just stood there, praising Chanelle for knowing exactly how to calm him down. I stared at the three of them looking like a perfect, happy family. Six years of swallowing my pride, only to realize my husband would let our son choke to death just to buy another woman's smile. The last thread of my heart snapped. I handed him the divorce papers, demanding zero alimony. Then, I drove to a hidden Brooklyn loft, cut off my hair, and unlocked my safe. It was time to resurrect my true identity—the legendary fashion designer, Ember.J. I am going to burn her empire to the ground.
Married To My Ex's Ruthless Uncle
9.0
My father was dying in the ICU, and our family company, the Martin Group, was on the verge of total collapse. While I was desperately trying to sign the consent form for his life-saving surgery, my fiancé, Eston, sent me a text. "I told you not to be stubborn. The company is mine by Friday. Beg me, and I might pay for the funeral." He had been secretly looting my family's assets from the inside, waiting for me to break so he could steal everything. He thought I would crawl back to him in absolute despair, surrendering my father's legacy just to survive. The sheer weight of my helplessness crushed my chest as the heart monitor next to my father's bed let out a frantic, high-pitched scream. The betrayal tore through me, but the despair quickly hardened into a cold, sharp stone. Why should I let the man who ruined me dance on my family's grave? Why should I let him walk away with everything while I lost the only family I had left? I wiped away my tears and blocked his number permanently. Then, I stepped out into the freezing Manhattan rain and went straight to the top floor of the Maxwell building. I threw my remaining shares onto the desk of Ellwood Maxwell—the apex predator of Wall Street, and Eston's untouchable, ruthless uncle. "I want you to marry me," Ellwood said, pushing a marriage contract toward me. "That is the only way your company survives." I picked up the pen. If Eston wanted to destroy my life, I would become his aunt and make him bow.